


A Land Of Stars

by EliMorgan



Series: Shots and Shorts [19]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Fruitcake, Marvelously Magical Fanfiction's Enchanted Wonders, Sirius Black's Flying Motorbike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:20:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21780847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliMorgan/pseuds/EliMorgan
Summary: For Christmas, all Wanda wants is to stop being so scared.Pansy is happy to help.
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Pansy Parkinson
Series: Shots and Shorts [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1073289
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2
Collections: Enchanted Wonders Holiday Collection 2019





	A Land Of Stars

**Author's Note:**

> **I do not own the works made use of herein, none of the Harry Potter/Marvel universe features or characters belong to me. I make no money from this work.**
> 
> Hello!
> 
> Happy Holidays! This piece was written for MMF's Enchanted Wonders event, 2019! I was prompted the Magical Item, Sirius Black's Flying Motorbike, and as a word prompt, fruitcake. 
> 
> Please enjoy this seasonal tale of conquering one's anxieties.
> 
> Love, Eliza x

"Get on, loser, we're going shopping."

Wanda gaped, shook her head, blinked, then scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hands. Nope, it was still there. The large black monstrosity purring away in the driveway was  _ not  _ a figment of her imagination, nor was the woman all dressed in leather straddling it's seat. Darcy, stood behind her in the doorway after she, too, had been summoned by the sound, gasped out a low " _ Thor".  _

"Is that a motorcycle?" Wanda asked faintly, not sure she'd be heard over the low rumbling. Pansy hadn't even bothered to turn off the engine, which to Wanda seemed unsafe. Darcy clearly disagreed, scooting past her and running to the thing, laying one hand, awestruck, on the metal. 

"It's more than a motorbike," Pansy corrected, finally twitching the key so that the behemoth calmed, the noise tapering off into a satisfied silence. "This is a classic - and an heirloom. If you knew how many favours I'd had to trade to even touch this thing…"

Darcy was reverently stroking the thing now, and Pansy rolled her eyes, propping her helmet on the - handlebars? - before dismounting and strutting over to Wanda. "Don't you like it?" she asked, leaning forward to brush a kiss against her lips, a cloud of spicy, clove-scented perfume enveloping Wanda as she did so. Wanda sighed, some of her fear melting away. Pansy was doing that thing with her eyes that suggested she was far more innocent than she actually was. 

"It's very beautiful," Wanda grudgingly admitted, following when Pansy took her hand to tug her forward. "Why do you have it?" 

"Well, I know how you hate apparating, and how I hate those tin cans you all insist on using -" 

"Cars," Wanda smirked, remembering how Pansy had thrown herself out of the moving vehicle the moment it had hit fifty miles an hour. At the time, it had been terrifying. Six weeks of rehabbing a whiny Pansy had leeched away the rest of her pity. 

"I thought the bike would be a happy medium. Remember how a few weeks ago you were talking about how much you missed that weird Sokovian fruitcake?" 

"We are not driving that to Sokovia," Wanda said. Firmly, because if you gave her an inch, she would take a mile. It tempted her to say that Sokovia no longer existed, but who knew, that thing might travel in time. 

"You're not driving that anywhere," Darcy chipped in, giving Wanda an 'are you fucking kidding me' look. "Your daddy will kill you."

"Daddy?" Pansy asked, blankly. 

Wanda scowled at Darcy. "If you're talking about Clint, he's always telling me to get out more."

"Not on motorbikes!" 

"And what," she sniffed, getting huffy, "is this bike going to do to me that I cannot prevent? That is worse than what I have already been through?" She didn't give her friend the chance to reply, turning to Pansy. "We’re not going to Sokovia,” she repeated, with a hint of questioning.

“Nowhere so far as that.” She paused, then smirked. “Perhaps England…”

“ _ Pansy _ !” Darcy said in a strangled voice. 

“Oh, relax, I’m joking.” She gave a feral flash of her teeth. “Jealous, are we?”

“Concerned!” Darcy turned to Wanda, her big blue eyes shining. “Wanda, you don’t need to…”

“You do have a spare helmet," Wanda asked Pansy, ignoring her friend. She loved Darcy like a sister, but her protectiveness verged on a double standard. 

"As if I'd let anything happen to you," her girlfriend replied disdainfully, pulling something from the pocket of her leathers and enlarging it with a flick of her wand. "Who do you think I am?" 

Wanda had never been entirely sure, but thankfully Pansy didn't seem to be waiting for an answer, instead pushing the helmet down onto her head and adjusting it to her liking. Her fingers brushed Wanda's neck as she fastened the clip, and the resulting shudder made her smirk.

"C'mon, then." She patted Wanda's thigh and gestured to the seat. "Lead with this leg and scoot back. I'll get on after you, make sure everything's alright."

Another shiver of nerves tripped down Wanda's spine, but Darcy's doubtful face drove her on. Being somewhat shorter than Pansy, which had come as a welcome surprise when they'd first met, it wasn't as natural for her to slide her leg across and mount the thing, but she managed it without help and slid backwards until she was only just seated comfortably. Pansy smiled, a true smile that lit up her face, and Wanda knew it was from the display of trust. 

They both had their issues. 

"I'll have her back by nine, ma'am." Pansy touched her head in a mocking salute to Darcy, who rolled her eyes and propped her hands on her hips. 

"In one piece, please. I have enough on my hands without having to dodge arrows for letting Wanda ride off into the sunset with some strange woman."

"I don't need a babysitter," Wanda couldn't help but sulk as Pansy mounted the metal beast in one fluid, sensuous movement. Her hands slid back to grasp Wanda's, and pulled her forward until her breasts were crushed against her back and Wanda could almost feel her heartbeat through the leather. Darcy watched this with concern, then gave a faint smile. 

"It was me or Natasha, and you can bet that you wouldn't be on there if it was Nat."

Pansy, tiring of the byplay, revved the bike into motion and sped off down the road, Wanda clinging to her for dear life.

* * *

Love wasn't something Wanda had ever seen in the cards for herself. She'd had crushes, felt affection; one memorable occasion had brought out sexual attraction, but that had been towards a machine made man and perhaps not her best option. For most of her life, family had been enough. Her brother, then Clint, and slowly after that everyone else. Her abilities made her difficult to love, and slow to trust - she was well aware of these limitations, and reminded herself of them every other day. 

It wasn't until Pansy that she'd truly considered a relationship, and, if you asked, she couldn't quite tell you why. 

They'd met at a party. Not a Stark party - this had been no fancy Gala in aid of such-and-such, but a block party that had seamlessly transitioned into a backwoods kegger once the children had gone home. It was an unfamiliar scene, but so much of her life had been unfamiliar in those days that she'd rolled with it the best she could, the knife-edge of fear and excitement forefront in her mind. Clint had been there, as he always was back then - it was his idea in the first place to move her out into the suburbs, away from the stimulation and attention of the Avenger's compound, and there she'd thrived. His faith in her was vastly beyond what she could manage for herself, but she found herself meeting his challenges time after time. 

One such challenge had been issued as they sat by the bonfire, Clint cross-legged beside her chair, leaning his head against her calves as he took a long swig of whatever poison they'd put in the keg. Wanda had been watching the dancing figures through the flames, her chin in her hand. The Wanda-That-Was had loved to dance, tripping around her mother's kitchen before she could even walk properly, swaying and bobbing to the folk music on the radio. The Wanda-That-Is, however…

Someone must have been watching her, for the next thing she knew a tall, dark-haired woman was crouched next to her, breathing alcohol in her ear and talking in a voice like smoke. 

"She's asking you to dance," Clint said, loudly so as to be heard over the music, when Wanda jerked away so hard that she sent them all flying. "She's shy," he explained to the woman - a beautiful, oval-eyed woman with her hair cut blunt enough that one might slice their fingers on its edge. Indignant at the description, Wanda snapped, "I can speak for myself!" 

"Oh yeah? Then why aren't you dancing with the lovely lady?" 

Wanda's eyes rounded in fear as she glanced at the stranger. A beautiful, elegant stranger who, even wrapped up in a shabby black duffel coat and gloves, seemed out of place here. "Sorry," the woman said, not sounding sorry at all. Her gaze lingered on Wanda as she continued. "I didn't mean to cause a domestic. Saw you looking at the dancers and - you can't blame me for taking a shot at a beautiful woman." 

"Oh, I don't," Clint replied smoothly. "Neither does Wanda." At her venomous look, he smirked. “Right, Wanda? Or are you going to sit here with me all night?”

"I-" Wanda bit her lip and tried again. "I would… enjoy... dancing with you."

And it was the strangest thing, but when Pansy smiled that delighted smile, and Wanda's hand slid into hers, she felt her panic melt away, as if she'd never be scared again.

* * *

What romantic tripe. "Never be scared again"? Wanda had never been this terrified in her life, and she'd fought actual monsters. 

About five minutes ago, Pansy had given up telling her to relax and, after an attempt to pat her hand had led to Wanda screaming about both hands being on the bars at all times, simply repeatedly reminded her of the goal of their little outing. 

Sokovian fruitcake. The taste of her mother's baking, of her grandmother's before her, of generations of the Maximoff family and those around them, of people all over Sokovia slaving in their kitchens for hours, stewing berries, sifting the exact right amount of flour and sugar. The markets the month before Christmas, full of good-natured shouting and bartering as each matriarch fought for the best port and brandy with which to flavour the centrepiece of the Christmas feast. 

Fruitcake was their one indulgence in a blighted country. 

Wanda gasped and jerked as the bike took a wide bend, shooting down a darkened side street. 

"I think you should close your eyes," Pansy's voice warned her, clear as a bell in her ear thanks to a spell she'd woven around them. "We're taking a shortcut."

The words took a moment to filter into her mind, and before she had a chance to snap her eyes shut, the bike lurched, snorted, and then - 

" _ Oh my god!"  _

They were  _ flying.  _ The world around them blurred and rippled, but Wanda knew they were flying - the ride had become exponentially more smooth without tarmac beneath the wheels, and they were moving at nearly twice their previous speed. Her hair whipped around her neck, and she was grateful for the helmet. Pansy let out a delighted shriek, pumping one hand in the air, and Wanda couldn't find it in herself to complain, not with the adrenalin rushing through her blood at high speed, her own scream bubbling up in her throat. 

Stars blanketed the sky, a patterned curtain they shot towards before leveling out, the lights of the world below them providing a mirror. Wanda could identify nothing of the unfamiliar landscape, but she thought they were heading south. 

"Where are we going?!" 

"New York!" Of course, New York. That prospect seemed slightly less terrifying now, as she literally _ flew  _ over her adopted homeland. What would have been a five hour drive was cut down to an hour in the air. 

Trusting Pansy slightly more now that there was no danger of other vehicles, Wanda loosened her grip, turning her head to take in the sky, to feel the wind rushing past them. Panic twisted into excitement, pure joy, and she began to laugh. 

She felt free.

* * *

Pansy guided the bike down to land behind a raggedy building in Queens. Wanda couldn't catch her breath - she almost wanted to demand  _ more,  _ more flight, more rides. She'd never been an adrenalin-seeker, too timid, too scared for that, but… 

"Are you alright?" Pansy asked. She'd gotten off, her helmet held by her side, and her eyes were bright, cheeks pink from the ride. How did she never get  _ less _ pretty? One would think Wanda would get used to it, but she never did. 

Her excitement made her bold, and she nearly toppled the whole bike as she jumped from it into Pansy's arms. The other woman laughed, taking Wanda's weight with ease. 

"I'm  _ wonderful,"  _ Wanda gushed, tugging impatiently at the chin-strap. "Just-" freed from the helmet, she propped it carefully on the seat before launching herself at Pansy once more, pressing her lips to hers and groaning at the spiced taste of her. " _ Wonderful,"  _ she muttered against her mouth, and smiled at Pansy's laugh. 

"Fruitcake," Pansy reminded her, breathlessly, some seconds later. Wanda paused, her fingers curling against the soft skin of Pansy's hips, having somehow snuck inside her leathers. At her blank look, her girlfriend smirked again. "We came here for fruitcake."

"Oh." Wanda took a moment, then grinned mischievously. "But we can pick this up later, yes?" 

A throaty chuckle. "Anything you like, love." 

Wanda grinned, and Pansy wound their fingers together. "I like… This."

Lips pressed against the skin of her wrist as she was tugged towards the street. They paused there, in front of a house all lit up with lights and garlands and trees. The smell of mulled wine lured them in. "Merry Christmas, Wanda," Pansy murmured, almost shyly. 

Wanda squeezed her hand tight. "Merry Christmas, my love." 


End file.
